Dirt in the wounds
by chrnoskitty
Summary: Russia's lands belong to me." The end of wars isn't always a clean cut for the countries as they think it is. Sometimes, their enemies just need a chance to heal. Implied Ivan/Alfred, Shipped Roderich/Ivan.
1. The Fall

"Tony, I'm home," Alfred sighed as he pushed the heavy oaken door of his rather luxurious West Virginian home open. He had been holed up in that stuffy meeting room with the other nations, discussing the current situation.

The current situation... The blonde sighed again, rubbing at the bridge of his nose where Texas sat. The state rarely bothered him, but today... Today they seemed particularly irritated at him. He didn't want to deal with it. Right now, there were more important things for him to mull over...

He left Texas on the kitchen table while he set about fixing himself a pot of coffee. It was times like these when he really missed Toris' company. The Lithuanian was not only very useful, but he would have also been another nation to talk to...

At least, the old Lithuania would have been. The current Lithuania had spent the entirety of the five-hour meeting glaring at him through frigid green eyes. Toris had also been sitting in Ivan's seat. Filling in for the larger nation, because he couldn't make it.

And they all knew why. Because it was Alfred's fault.

But not right now. No, right now nothing was the nation's fault. He decided it wasn't, so it wasn't. That was the way it worked. Especially for this hero.

The coffee was finished. He poured some into an extra-large mug, emblazoned with his flag and images of his countryside and lumbered into the living room. He sank into an old, leathered couch and spent a few minutes ferreting around in the cushions for the television remote. Finding it, he clicked on the television.

"The Year is Twenty-Fifteen," A newscaster who looked very much like Lois Lane, only with larger breasts and shoved into a size-zero red pantsuit when she was obviously a size eight, announced. Okay, maybe not quite so much like Lois Lane. "And this is shaping up to be the war to end all wars."

"You say that about every war," Alfred mumbled to the glowing box. But it was true. Every major war was 'the war to end all wars'. Some had even said that about his fist fight with Iraq. This, this he supposed, was simply because they didn't want to say what this truly was.

"...Rioters out side the White House have become rather boisterous as of late, protesting what has unnoficially become known as the third world war."

Correction. Apparently some did. World War Three.

Oh, and, He had started it. No, not Alfred. Heroes never did anything bad, like teasing Arthur about his faeries, or starting wars. No, It was all Ivan's fault. That communist (Well, former...) bastard. All his fault. Not Alfred's.

* * *

The rockets whizzed through the air, screeching their high-pitched whine of a battle cry. Their fearsome roar as they crashed was nothing compared to the pain, and Ivan knew pain. Winter was pain. Starvation was pain. Murder was pain.

But this, this was an entirely new level of pain. Agony. Pure, unadulterated agony. And it was all their fault.

He had thought to oppose them. Alfred, Arthur, Kiku, and even Ludwig weren't having any of that. His opposition was futile. Even Wang Yao couldn't help him now, and he needed that help. Desperately. It was what he lusted for, what he yearned for. He'd cease to exist without it.

At this moment, to achieve aide, Ivan would even williingly marry General Winter and adopt Alfred as a favoured son. He was desperate.

And he was dying.

No one was going to help. After all, it was what they wanted, wasn't it? Even though he was no longer the Soviet Union, because he had changed, because they hadn't liked his union. Even though he no longer upheld the ideals of communism, because they hadn't liked that, either, and had begun to test out the forms that Alfred and others used. His people knew both his beautiful tongue, and the strange, thieving one that had been shared between Alfred, Arthur, and the rest of the nations. Wasn't that enough?

No. Of course not. He was Ivan. The cold, dreaded,unforgiving and hated lands of Russia. The largest nation in the world. The one with arbitrary ideas and childish whims. He was dangerous. He needed to be brought down.

And so, here he found himself. Stranded in his own country during World War Three, against the superpowers of the world.

Toris, and his sisters, Belarus and Ukraine, had done their best to help him during the first few years of the war.

The first year had barely come full circle when Ukraine ran back to her house, "Sorry, big brother!" She had gasped, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth. Over half her lands had been irrevocably destroyed by the same atrocious bombs that Alfred had once casually tossed at Kiku.

It hadn't been a pretty sight to behold. More than half her population had been decimated, and she bore physical reminders of their loss. And Ivan knew that he himself was completely at fault. If he existed after this, he'd have to give her some of himself. It wouldn't be enough, but it would be something. He would feel the guilt for years to come.

Famine and disease had infected his country. It was a gnawing ache at the core of him, tearing him apart, while the bombs with their undiluted hatred tore away at another.

In the third year Belarus had been killed. Alfred's people were currently stationed there. Their heavy tanks tearing apart the land that had once been her, their clunky, military boots soiling the pure snow that had once covered her fields.

While she had still existed, Belarus had put up a valiant fight. Taking three of the combined militia for each one of her own that had been felled. Ivan had been glad that her misdirected devotion towards him had been so easy to re-direct. Recruiting her to his side, with the words she wanted to hear --with a catch("Yes, sister. When you've won this war, I will marry you. But until then, we must shall speak no more of this, da?" He had whispered the words into her hair, the rough fabric to her hairband irritating his nose. It had been worth it, though, as her eyes lit up, and she replied with an almost dreamy-sounding "Da.", before flinging herself from his arms and preparing her troops.)-- had been no problem at all. Few of her advances, during that time, had even been put up with, always cut off before things could get too awkward, while he reitterated his promises to her in her ear. ("Yes, dearest sister. You shall become one with Mother Russia, and then, together, we will revive the union. All after the war, net?")

Ludwig had delivered the final blow. She had taken hours to finally fall. Painful, heartbreaking, hours. Any other nation wouldn't have persisted so long, at risk to themselves and their troops. German perseverance had done her in.

They said her last breaths had been used to declare her love for him. Ivan didn't know how true that was. During Belarus' final hours he had been fending off a joint invasion attempt by Arthur and Kiku.

And then there was Toris. Toris had been faithfully by his side up until two years ago. It was the fifth year of thye war when Lithuania officially pulled out of the war, following Vash's example of nuetrality. "No hard feelings, Ivan," Toris apologized, shakilly laying down his weapon. "I can't do this anymore. By boss doesn't want me to help you. Not anymore. The casualties are too high. And...," The Lithuanian gulped. The larger nation still intimidated him, though they had grown something almost akin to... close... in past years. "And, if I see you again, Ivan, or, any of you, even Arthur and the others... I'm obligated to shoot you."

"And, when the war is over?"

Toris' eyes were full of hesitation as he took Ivan's hand, shaking it in farewell. "We'll see Ivan, we'll see."

x

Another bomb screeched through the atmosphere. The last one had landed in the charred remains of fields that had once belonged to Ukraine. But this one...

"Augh!" The Russian couldn't keep himself from crying out. It wasn't like he had to keep up appearances, anyway. There was no one around. He was alone, like usual. His gloved hand immediately flew to the wound, a gaping cavaty in his chest. Moscow.

He was powerless to stop it, as his blood leaked through his fingers, as if they had never existed in the first place. The blood, warm, for one so cool to the touch, melted the snow around him. Forming a tainted sludge, to mark his undoing.

He swayed on his feet, the sudden loss of blood and overly large frame proving to be an ill-thought concoction. No sooner had his thoughts reached the same rationality did his knees buckle beneath him, aggravating his wound further.

Suddenly, all control left him, and his face came to rest in the snow. "D-Damn you...," He hissed to the gray skies above, lavendar eyes glassing over.

* * *

That was it! They had done it! Alfred celebrated wildly, giving Arthur a high five. The Briton didn't fully return it, but the effort was appreciated nonetheless. "And _I_ was the _hero_!" He exclaimed cheerilly. Kiku smiled politely, Ludwig outright yawned, and Arthur merely sipped his tea and had a conversation of his own (with himself.) while Alfred recounted the events of the day. Boasting.

"And I told you gettin' Moscow would do it. Yer capital's important. Yer heart. Can't live without that. Now we don't ever have to worry about that communist scum ever again, an' we can have his land. I think some of m'people always wanted to go there. Ain't too sure. But now they can. Because it's ours--"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," a newly arriving nation said, pushing his glasses back up on his face, his lips pursed in dissaproval. Roderich. "But Russia's lands belong to me."

* * *

**A/N:** So here we have it, my first serious Hetalia fic, for the pairing I actually support(Which gets very little love...). I suspect this will be around 3-4 chapters, so I hope you stick with me, and, of course, review, because I like that attention. Thank you for reading!


	2. The Memory

It was as if the world had suddenly stopped turning. Those four words out of the Austrian's mouth had silenced them better than any atomic bomb could ever hope to. Predictably, it was Alfred who broke the silence first. "What th' fuck d'ya mean, _belongs_ to _you_?!"

Roderich's lips twitched upwards. The barest hint of a grin, or the beginning of a grimace. It was hard to tell with the man. "Exactly what it sounds like. This was all pre-arranged."

It was Arthur who interrupted this time. "Pre-arranged?" The former pirate parroted. "He knew--" A nod from the Austrian cut him off mid-thought.

"More or less, yes. Ivan does have remarkable foresight --"

"We sure this's th' same Ivan? 'Cuz the Ivan _I_ know jumped out of a fucking plane with no parachute."

"--Most of the time," Roderich finished, looking down his glasses at the insolent states. Really, children should do better to respect their elders! He checked an old-fashioned pocket watch tucked into his jacket at most times, that was kept on a silver chain whose tarnish was only barely visible beneath the shine, and continued. "As we speak, Ivan -- Or what is left of him -- is being brought to my house. He will recover there, and until he is fully well again, I have been given guardianship over his lands."

"Excuse me, Austria-san," Kiku chimed in, "But I thought that Ivan and yourself hated each other."

The aristocrat smiled wanly at the Asian. "Before the Cold War, you mean?" He paused, Alfred cringed. "We did... and then, we did not."

"Huh -- Wassat s'posted ta mean?"

"It means," Arthur gave a weary sigh for the idiocy of his former ward. At least Matthew was more intelligent, even if he _did_ pal around an awful lot with that bloody git, Francis. "It means, Alfred, that if you would pay attention to anyone but yourself, you would know that Ivan and Roderich were what was called, 'hostile neutral', towards each other."

Utterly perplexed, Alfred stood there gaping like a fish for a blissful twenty-two seconds (Arthur counted) of silence, before the inevitable spilled from the former colonys' lips. "Well, how th' fuck's that work? Y'slap each other across the face an' jus' walk away?"

"Well...," Arthur began, but was silenced by the Austrian's hand on his shoulder.

"It's my history, I should be the one who explains it," Roderich explained, and Arthur backed off with a nod. When the pirate had settled himself into a cozy arm chair, plate of tea resting atop his knees, Roderich continued. "Hostile neutrality is not that complex a concept, once you think about it, Alfred. As Arthur so generously provided, that _was_ the arrangement between Ivan and myself during the Cold War. What it essentially boiled down to, was this: If I saw Ivan, or Ivan saw me, during those times, we would fight, or bicker amongst each other, but we would not actively seek each other out -- the neutral part of the deal. After the Cold War was over, our relationship was rocky at best--"

"So then why help the communist bastard now? I mean --" Alfred butt in, only to be immediately silenced by the Austrian's reproachful glare.

"I was getting to that, Alfred. Surely Arthur raised you with _some_ patience? Now, where was I... Oh, yes. Ivan and I managed to smooth things over between ourselves, simply by no longer speaking after the war, assuming neutrality, if you will. And then, in '07, Ivan's boss came to visit. A social call, really, which paved the way for Ivan to be able to come to _me_ once it looked like this war really would begin.

"I still can't believe you all actually went through with that scheme...

"But I digress, on that day when Ivan came to me, he looked smaller than I could ever have imagined him..."

x

Roderich was in his office, straining his eyes in the gloom of the last shreds of long-ago lost daylight, too frugal to turn on the lamp that sat right in front of him at this early hour. The door to his study was open, the wooden door leading into the room like an inviting hand. He left it that in in the silly, nostalgic hope that maybe one day Elizaveta, Feliciano, or even Ludwig would return to keep him company.

When he heard the heavy, hesitant boots scuffing the floor in the hallways, he thought nothing of it. Instead, he returned his attention to his paperwork.

When the sounds stopped, and the shadow fell across his desk, plunging his current work into complete darkness, Roderich was forced to look up.

To meet those violet eyes whose violent shad was barely a fitting cover to the torment hidden within.

The Russian hadn't needed to speak, the father figure in Roderich had already decided to aide the other nation. But it took the man's words for the Austrian, and the aristocrat, to fully acknowledge that urge in himself.

"I'm worried for Natalya and Yekaterina," were the first words from the Russian's mouth. Roderich nodded, through he did not yet understand what could have the larger nation worried for someone other than himself. He was genuinely intrigued.

"I'm listening. Continue." The Austrian spared a moment to also wonder why the Russian had come to him. The two of them were possessed of an awkward history, of sorts.

"More and more of my cities are being destroyed," Ivan continued, as though he had never stopped, violet eyes searching the Austrian's own brown, adding a plea that his words had not yet lighted upon. _Help me, please._ "I... am becoming weaker. This... is hurting me. And I... I am so large. Yekaterina, and Natalya... They are so small!

"I fear... that they will become one with... nothingness."

"But what can I do?" Roderich asked, his lips pursed. "I am neutral in this war. Helping you to protect them, would...."

"Nyett. That is not what I am asking. I do not want your help _in_ the war, but, _after_."

"After?"

"After, da. I... I do not believe that I will make it, to the end of the war. I... will need, a voice, when I am...." He played with some papers on the edge of the Austrian's desk, shuffling them around, moving his hands so that such an unpleasant thought might be more bearable. "What the bombs do not claim of my lands, I would like Natalya to have. Belarussia, like she has always wanted, nyett?"

"And, Ukraine?"

Ivan looked up from where his hands were toying with the papers, a lopsided, somewhat wistful smile on his face. Roderich almost thought he saw something faintly wet in the corner of the larger nations' eye, but paid it no heed in a proper gentleman's fashion. "Yekaterina is such a crybaby. She will need someone... someone to look after her, when I am... gone. Could you, perhaps... find her someone, who will? Who will help her to rebuild, who will lo-- be nice, to her?"

Roderich nodded, murmuring, "I believe I may know the perfect nation for that..." It was almost like getting asked to play matchmaker. But, unlike Elizaveta, Ivan wasn't asking him to film it... "And, should you not dissapear? What should I do, then?"

This time, Roderich was certain he saw it, that faint shimmer of wet, a tremor in the shoulder, and a harsh swallow, before the other nation replied, "Could you... perhaps... protect me?" There was a definitive tremor to the Russian's voice, and Roderich wanted nothing more than to stand up and place a comforting arm around Ivan's shoulders. But he didn't. He stayed seated. "I'm scared."

x

"No fucking way," America said, jumping up from his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. Trying to look larger and tougher. Intimidating. Only... he wasn't. "Russia ain't the' kinda ass t' go pansy last minute and be _scared_ of all things. Guy's fucking _Russia_. Russia doesn't get scared."

"Apparently, _America_, he did. And his lands are in my care, for now. You should think to revise your 'victory' speech," The Austrian said, laying the papers, (copies of the original, of course, but just as legit), on the table before turning out the door. He had done what was needed, for the moment, to keep the Russian's territory.

Now it was time to do what he could for Russia itself. Roderich had a nagging feeling that the next few months, as the very least, would be very trying. He hoped he was up for that challenge.

* * *

**A/N:**_ We'll get some "present"-day (in this story's time line) RoddyxIvan interactions in the next chapter. I would like to thank these people who reviewed: _**LittleLove, NEEDSMORELOVE**,** XxXChibiBunniXxX, and Gallytrot.** And a welcome/thank you to any new readers! Please review. Thanks.


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